She watched in the oversized ornate mirror as Booth's hand slipped lightly across her collarbone until it dipped under the edge of her dress. It took her breath away which she knew he felt as her chest rose and fell against the palm of his hand at a severely expedited rate.

"Shhhh." He quieted her. "It's just mistletoe, Bones. Act like it happens everyday and no one will know it doesn't." She sunk back into him, let his hand drift, his fingers play lightly moving back and forth, let her heart race, let her head roll into his neck. He watched their reflection as his other hand gripped her hip and held her close. Believable. Anyone watching them would think they were just another couple who'd come to the remote lodge for a discrete romantic getaway.

"Totally sexless." Attempting to sound solid and unaffected by his touch she whispered her response. It came out breathy which clearly brought Booth great pleasure.

Boyfriend and girlfriend, engaged couple, married or a man and his mistress, it was the easiest way for them to conduct undercover work as partners. But doing so had a tendency to put them in physically awkward positions making it hard to maintain their relationship as just partners and friends - two titles they touted constantly among their colleagues and friends. Mistletoe had become a codeword between them. It stretched back into their past several years. When one puckish prosecutor insisted she kiss her partner under the parasitic plant to gain her cooperation in orchestrating a Brennan Christmas miracle. It was their way of grounding themselves, reminding each other that this, what happened between them physically, was just work.

The lobby emptied, he pulled back. His fingertips ran along her collarbone and across her chest until his hand rested on her shoulder. She regained composure. Staring at their reflection, for just a moment, she wasn't sure what she saw. It was them, unmistakably them. But was it them as partners, as friends, as they would be if they were lovers? It seemed to be a question she couldn't escape lately. Sure, they reminded themselves that this thing between them was a part they were playing, sexless, but it seemed so very far away from that. What if there was no line she found herself asking more and more. What if they threw all caution aside and crossed it?

Three women went missing from the lodge. All registered with false identities, characters from early literature, historical figures, silver screen actors and actresses, famous pinup girls, making it complicated to identify and connect the women to the lodge until the cases got bumped up to them and their team at the Jeffersonian. Clues started rolling in. It was just a matter of time before Angela was able to match up sketches to fake and real personas. Booth felt strongly that the best way to get information from the lodge was to come as guests. There wasn't enough hard evidence for a warrant and a place like this wasn't going to just give away access to their records at the flash of his badge. Covering for heads of state, high powered lawyers and judges, corporate officers and the such gave Queen Anne's Purlieu friends in high places.

Registered as Bogart and Bacall they stepped back into the world of undercover. Tonight she wore a deep blue evening gown. It was modest enough, she thought, a simple deep v-neck in both the front and the back, a fitted bodice, long flowing skirt, layers of chiffon. Admittedly, she picked it because she knew Booth would like it. Was it wrong to purposefully tempt him? Not when he engaged in the same tantalizing game. He wore a tux, black, sleek, slim bowtie, and when she leaned back into him she'd felt every one of the pearl buttons press against her bare back. Booth stared back at her in the mirror clearly amused. Which seemed like evidence that she was not the only one playing this very dangerous and alluring game.

"I like your dress." He said casually. "It's pretty." His fingers still played a little in the soft light fabric and though he didn't show it his mind struggled to pull away from the dreamy state touching her put him in. This was going to be hard, harder than he originally thought. Turning her to face him he leaned in and spoke softly.

"You okay there, Bones?" Almost chortling as he waited for her answer. That snapped her out of it.

"Booth, I am fine. I am a professional and this...this is just a roll." She nearly spit it out. "So, who are we are interrogating first?"

"Not interrogating, Bones, just getting to know, you remember how this works, right?" But she didn't. Not now, not with his hands slipping sinfully along her waist and hips. She slapped his hands away and shot him a dirty look.

"Dinner then." Turning quickly on her heel she marched towards the dining room, arms swinging, leaving Booth to catch up.

They always danced on the edge of inappropriate, it wasn't unfamiliar ground, but this, this was playing with fire and they both knew it. A quiet candle lit dinner in front of the lodge's fireplace as they made small talk with the staff acting interested in the history of the lodge, rumors, stories, legends. Asking simple questions about how long each attendant had worked there and who were the regulars.

After dinner they wandered through the ballroom mingling and talking with other couples. Bones made a point to visit the ladies room several times in the name of freshening up. A place she discovered to be a hub of gossip and information. Booth hovered at the bar engaging in a fact finding mission of his own. It was getting late when they took to the dance floor one last time making their way around the floor, passing the various couples who interested them, listening as best they could. Her body started to melt into his becoming heavy in his arms as she rested her head on his shoulder. His eyes closed as he pulled her in just a little closer. One hand rested on her bare back, his fingers softly moving in the tiniest circles. It was utterly hypnotic. His other hand holding hers, wrapping it tightly to his chest.

"You ready for bed, sleepy head?" He hummed.

"Not yet." She murmured in return. He settled into her, into the music, into a moment that wouldn't be theirs if it weren't for their work, for this charade in the name of crime fighting. They lingered on the dance floor pretending to listen to the hushed conversations of other couples.

The elevator ride back up to the room seemed long and found them antsy, anxious to exchange information but reluctant to in this public setting. Several turns and twist of halls found them finally close to their room. Booth fumbled in his pockets for the room key lodged amongst all the tokens and small remembrances he carried with him everywhere. Looking up with key in hand Brennan couldn't help but register the flash of panic in his eyes followed by her body being slammed against the door. Booth buried his face, assaulting her neck. No time to stay her reactions her sudden gasps and moans of pleasure seemed only to egg him on. It took a moment for her to register that he wasn't actually kissing her. Though at the moment she wasn't entirely sure which would have been worse, his kiss or the feel of his lips brushing along her skin as his warm breath tickled her. It took time, more time than normal for her to register his words spoken in a quiet panic against her ear.

"I know that man coming down the hall. He knows me, Bones. He'll blow our cover." This was a tactical move to hide his identity. Mistletoe.

She was instantly back in reality. Pulling the simple clip that held her hair loosely up all night she shook her head letting soft curls fall around Booth's face to keep him hidden. He kept trying to open their damned hotel room door, fumbling as they continued the ruse of a couple so heavily engaged in foreplay they couldn't seem to make the simple lock work. He groaned loudly as he felt her leg lift against his thigh and settle around his hip. In the name of saving their cover he let his hand slip sinfully up her leg to keep it wrapped around him. Totally sexless.

The couple was close, within feet of them, when it finally opened and they tumbled through. Slamming the door behind them, they fell against it, and slid to the floor. Both breathing heavy trying to contain their reaction to the other.

"Damn." Booth chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. "Holy shit."

"I think it worked." Booth nodded in agreement. It was just about all he was capable of at the moment, nodding. A few more deep breaths and he might be able to talk coherently and spit out something more than a string of curse words. For the moment their hearts raced and their hormones surged.

"Okay." A long sharp inhale marked the beginning of his explanation. "That was Don, he's an old army buddy from my sniper days. He worked munitions. Guy was seriously a genius with any kind of gun or explosives. He came home and started his own company. He's a Department of Defense wet dream."

"You've stayed in touch?" Trying to measure out how serious the threat was to their undercover identities she pressed for more information.

"Yes and no." Booth took in another sharp breath, this one more relaxed than the last. "I mean we aren't buddy buddy or anything but when I see him around he always makes a point of talking to me."

"When was the last time you saw him?"

"I don't know, maybe a couple of months ago at a training conference at Quantico." He rolled his head on the hard wooden door so he could look directly at her. "Look, I know if he got a good look at my face he'd recognize me." The seriousness of the situation was starting to sink in and she nodded her approbation. "I know he would. I mean, we're close enough that he asks about Parker by name. He shows me pictures of his wife and kids." His mood was changing rapidly. She watched it move across his face with each deepening realization. "Bones, that wasn't his wife." Not a surprise given the type of establishment this was but still a heartbreaking one for her partner. A sadness filled his eyes. Booth was a good man, rare in morals and integrity.

"I'm sorry, Booth, I know how that bothers you."

He shook his head as if shaking off the situation. "No, no. I mean it bothers me, it does, but I'm more worried about blowing our cover right now than his love life."

"Yes." They sat in silence for after that, just long enough for a sense of awkwardness to start to grow.

"Way to think on your feet by the way, Bones, that was..." He let his words drift off unable to really say what he was thinking with the exception of hot, it was extremely hot. So, he just gave her an approving nod as he struggled to keep his mind from reliving the last five minutes in a sexually frustrating but seductive loop. It was easier to change the subject. They would take turns changing, meet up for a much needed drink, and exchange what they learned throughout the evening.

She took the bathroom first, he waited, checking out what possibilities the minibar held to knock down his level of tension. Pulling his bow tie loose and letting it hang around his neck Booth was ready to get out of his head and checking out this upscale room was a great place to start. He unbuttoned the top couple buttons of his shirt and untucked it as he explored. Plush rugs, soft couch, about a million throw pillows, large fireplace, personal hot tub looking out over the lush landscape and starry sky, they thought of everything here. It was a wonder couples ever left their room. Slipping off his shoes felt like heaven, the comfort of which brought a long sigh of relief. This was good and as undercover jobs went this was way better than an old beat up RV with Buck and Wanda painted across it in too many ways to count.

It was his name drawn out in a long whine that pulled his attention back to her.

"Booth." He set a couple of glasses down on the coffee table that spread out between a big overstuffed couch and a large open brick fireplace. "Booth, I need your help." He finished turning the gas jets to the fireplace on and watched with satisfaction as flames shot up through the logs.

"Hey, Bones, whatcha need?"

"You." It was too short of an answer and her tone was off, perturbed. And then she completely surprised him by flinging the bathroom door open. "The zipper is stuck." His eyes grew wide and he stumbled back a step. He looked to her side where she pointed to the problem. "I can't get it from this angle. I need your help." The long offending zipper lay tight to her ribcage where it followed the gentle curve to her waist and down her hip. Holy mother of Jesus was this night ever going to end? It was on gigantic minefield of temptation.

"Okay, okay, yeah, we can do this, right?" He stammered as his fingers fumbled with the small little pull. "Yeah, well, wow, that's really stuck, Bones."

"I know that, Booth, that's why I called you in here. I tried everything I could." She had her arm up in the air and he leaned down trying to get a better look at it as he fiddled.

"Stop moving, Bones." He grabbed her waist and pulled her back closer. Holding and tugging he made only little bits of progress at a time. It was starting to work or at least he thought it was until the zipper popped partially opened in the middle revealing a creamy patch of smooth skin. Some how he made it worse.

"Booth." Long and drawn out, his name echoed in the tile covered bathroom. She was definitely not happy.

"I know, I know. Don't worry, I'll fix it." Now the backs of his fingers were brushing up against her bare skin, tickling, tempting. "But you have to stop moving, Bones." Back and forth they bickered as Booth worked on the zipper until a knock on the door halted their progress. Before he could even move to answer it a neatly uniformed man came strolling into the room without announcing himself. He proceeded to move towards the bed turning down the covers.

"Don't mind me." His casual dismissal of Booth and his partner set them both on edge. They eyed each other in the bathroom mirror with their mutual disapproval. It was so offputting that the small talk the man tried to engage them in didn't even register.

"Excuse me." Booth was in no mood and Bones was indisposed trying to hold her dress together as the man moved casually around the room.

"Sorry, sir, I am just running a little late on my rounds this evening."

Booth put forth a hand which landed square on the smaller man's chest. Looking down at the gold embossed name tag he called him by name. "Frank, that's your name, right? Frank?" The man nodded vigorously. "Good. Frank, we came here for privacy and we expect it. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir." Frank's voice was cheery despite Booth's threatening form looming over him.

"You knock on this door and then you wait for an answer before you enter, got it? No more barging in here." Frank didn't seem to really comprehend Booth's insistence that he respect their personal space.

"I apologize. Oh, wait, I have something that will make it all better. I think you'll like it." His voice oozed excitement, shallow fake excitement. Booth would later compare it to an infomercial salesman or game show host. Neither example registered with his partner. Both went on a long mental list Booth had compiled over the years that started with get Bones a TV. The partners exchanged another look of disbelief as Frank bustled out the door back into the hall. He returned quickly with a bottle of high end scotch shoving it into Booth's hands. "Ah, don't worry about thanking me, sir. The bartender's a buddy of mine. He told me it was your favorite tonight." He winked and gave Booth a knowing smile as if the two shared the long history of an inside joke.

He rambled for a few more minutes and then the spindly little man left closing the door behind him, leaving the two more than a little dumbfounded. Booth set the scotch down next to the glasses and came back to finish helping his partner with her dress. Frank would be the first on his list of suspects to discuss after he got her damn zipper fixed so she could change.

A/N

So...what do you think?